Spies in the Family
by MegK1978
Summary: When two Martian spies barely escape Limburger's clutches, they have to find a way to get back to Mars. And wouldn't you know, these biker babes have family ties to two of our favorite trio of macho mice.
1. Chapter 1

**"Spies in the Family" by MegK**

**Author's note:** So, I've been bingeing a lot of this cartoon lately, both online (thank you, YouTube!) and here on ff-dot-net. Back when the good version was still on the air, I had a vague idea of two original characters and a plot that would introduce them a la one-shot or two-part episodes of same. It's taken this stretch of nostalgia to come up with more fleshed-out characters and a more complex story. This is the first time in a long time that I've posted anything in multiple chapters while still writing it, so please be patient. Vic and Lia are my characters; everyone else belongs to Rick Ungar. The following takes place somewhere between Seasons 2 and 3 (1995). I've also decided to re-edit and combine a few chapters; they looked a little skimpy on reflection.

-B-

Chapter 1: Arrival

Somewhere 20 miles west of Chicago, Illinois

Some beings were just not built to ride a Plutarkian teleport beam, especially when they're not used to it—and had deliberately redirected it as far from the original destination as possible.

Such was the case when two female bikers suddenly appeared on a hilltop, toppling off their respective motorcycles with moans of disorientation.

"Oh, my head," one said in a gentle soprano voice. "I hate doing that." Her eyes opened wide as she called out in a panic for her compatriot. "Lia? Lia, where are you?!"

"Here, Vic," a smoky alto replied. "I'm here." She was indeed nearby, carefully pulling herself to sit up from her supine position.

"Cheese, Lia, are you okay?"

"Yeah, I'm fine. Ow." She rolled her head to get the cricks out of her neck. "When did riding a teleport mean tasting blood in your mouth?"

"I dunno, but I think it just means we're not used to it." Vic opened the visor of her biker helmet to take in her surroundings, revealing a mouse's face covered in white fur. Her red eyes widened as she looked around. "Hey, Li, look around you."

Lia also opened her visor, showing her gray-furred face with ash-white markings. Then she saw what had her friend so awed. "It's _green_! I don't remember so much green!"

"Neither do I," said Vic. "It's like the old stories of how Mars used to be."

"Yeah, but where are we that looks like this?" Lia asked. "Especially when the Plutarkians were trying to send us here."

"I'm just glad we were able to redirect the beam while we were still inside it. Who knows what kind of doom they planned for us." Vic went to her bright-green bike and turned on the interstellar navigation system. Vic smiled as she saw their location. "Lia, you're not gonna believe this. We're on Earth!"

"Earth?!" Lia said incredulously. "I didn't think the Plutarkians even had interests on Earth."

"Me, neither, but it shows just how long out of contact we've been with Mars."

"True. Now how do we get that information back to General Carbine?" Lia patted the small information stick, still in the pack attached to her belt along with three Plutarkian gold gills she had purloined.

"Let's start with where we were supposed to end up. Wherever or whoever the stink-fishes were sending us, we could find allies along the way." Vic switched her nav system from stellar to planetary local. A pause, then two, then… "Huh. Looks like we're not far from somewhere called 'Chicago'. Well, I think as your gray-furred auntie would say, when in doubt, ask for directions."

Lia laughed. "Oh, c'mon. Auntie never said anything like that!"

"Well, if she didn't, she should!" Vic shot back. "And she should've taught your cousin, too."

"Maybe," Lia said wistfully, thinking of her cousin, who had been like a brother in all but blood.

Vic quickly synched the nav computer to Lia's bike, a sleek gold machine with red flames stenciled along the sides. Vic straddled her own machine and put up her visor, shooting her friend a grin. "You ready, biker babe?"

Lia returned the grin as she put up her own visor. "Absolutely, cycle sister." They revved their respective engines and bumped fists. "Let's rocket…"

They finished their personal battle cry together: "… and ROLL!"

Chicago would never know what hit it.

-M-

Limburger Plaza, Chicago, Illinois

"LIMBURGER!" Lord Camembert's voice roared through the interstellar call, echoing through Lawrence Limburger's office. "Why are the two spies I sent you not destroyed yet?!"

Limburger's fat finger circled between his throat and the collar of his button-down shirt. "The fact is, Your Overtness, they never arrived. We were ready to receive them, weapons drawn, but they never materialized here. Karbuncle believes that the two prisoners you were sending us did something to the teleport. It did not end, per se, just redirected." He grabbed the paper his pet mad scientist held out to him and displayed it to the High Chairman of Plutark. "The spies landed west of Chicago. By the time we discovered it, they were already gone. You have my deepest—"

"Stow your apologies, Limburger," Camembert snapped. "I don't care what you have to do but get rid of those spies before they can get the information they stole to their superiors!"

"If we could also have images of what they look like, High Chairman?" Limburger could still feel the sweat building in his human mask to leak out of the "pores". "So we can identify them."

"Done, but be warned, Lawrence—they were under our gills for over a solar year! They had disguised themselves so completely, we barely caught them before throwing them into the teleporter. You'll have their images in a moment." With that, the communication screen went black, Camembert having cut off the call from his end.

The length of time shook Limburger slightly. A Plutarkian solar year was roughly equivalent to eighteen Earth months. Who knows what those spies could have told their handlers in that length of time? He took a breath to calm himself before turning to Karbuncle. "Well, my dear demented doctor, you have prepared something appropriately gruesome for these agents of espionage?"

"Of course, Your Overripe Creaminess," Karbuncle rasped out. "I've been experimenting with different interrogation techniques and decided to put my own spin on them. It should be enough to learn what they know—while destroying them."

**A/N 2:** What do you think so far? Review, please?


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter 2: Assistance, Introductions, and Reunions

Five miles west of Chicago

Both Martian females knew they had to gather more local sources of information, so they kept their eyes open for the nearest equivalent of an information center. The best they could find was the inside of a public library. Since books had become increasingly rare, almost a luxury, Lia looked to her heart's content, wondering what it would take for her to borrow just one book.

Vic also looked, but instead spotted the Information Desk, currently occupied by an iron-haired human woman with pale, crepe-like skin. Neither had any idea if humans were aware of Martian or Plutarkian existence on their planet, so both had decided to keep their helmets on. Vic cleared her throat. "Excuse me, ma'am?"

The woman looked at them with clear-blue eyes through her rimless glasses. "Yes, my dear, what can I do for you?"

"Ma'am, we're new to the area, and we'd like to get a little more information," Lia started. "The problem is, we don't know quite where to start. Can you help us?"

"Well, of course, my dears. Follow me." She led them to one of six computers open to patrons, using her access code to allow them to use it without identification of their own. She also showed them how to use the new search engine to get any information they could want. They thanked her before she scooted back her desk.

Vic handed Lia a scrap of paper on which she had written the original coordinates they had been bound for. Using the "Internet browser", Lia found the corresponding local building: Limburger Enterprises. "Now we know where and who," Lia said, showing Vic the information. "If that stinking cheese has his own teleport, we can use it to get to Mars."

"And if we know anything about Plutarkians in general, he'll have his own army of locals paid off to protect him and any interests he has on Earth," Vic agreed.

Lia then hit upon a curiosity: the main tower of Limburger Plaza had been rebuilt over fifty times in the last two years after being repeatedly demolished. Aside from keeping the local construction companies in almost consistent work, she saw no reason for that to happen, unless… "I think we have allies here, Vic," she said quietly. "Someone's been fighting off Limburger and his plans for this area for the last two years. That's someone I want to meet."

Vic looked over her shoulder at the same info and laughed quietly. "Yeah, and whoever it is has my brother's talent for destruction."

"There may be a way to kill two rats with one stone." Lia looked back at the Information Desk. "It's been seven weeks since our bikes were looked at. See if she knows a good place in town. Garage owners know _everything_ about their customers and their vehicles; whoever she sends us to might know a thing or three about Limburger's plans over the years."

Vic knew Lia was probably right about their bikes needing a tending-to; she usually was about such things. "You head out to the bikes," she offered. "I'll ask."

Once again, Vic cleared her throat to get the older human's attention. "I hate to bother you again, ma'am, but we need to have our bikes looked at while we're here. Can you recommend a place?"

The woman smiled again. "Actually, yes." Opening a drawer, she found a small piece of paper with printing on it. "My son swears by the owner's work, says she's a genius with engines. I'm sure she'll be perfect."

Taking the paper, Vic read: "Last Chance Garage, Charlene Davidson, proprietor", with the garage's address and contact information. Vic grinned. "Gotta love a woman who owns her own business. Thank you very much, ma'am." She reached out and squeezed the kind woman's hand. "Ride free, honored elder," she said with all the sincerity she could put in her voice.

The woman seemed to recognize the phrase, for she squeezed back and replied, "Ride free, my dear, always."

When Vic finally joined her outside, Lia noticed a little hitch in her friend's breathing. "Vic, you okay?"

Vic turned to her with shining red eyes. She couldn't tell her, for she hardly dared to hope herself. Now she shook her head and handed Lia the business card. "She said this is the best place to go. Hopefully, Ms. Davidson will have some idea of who we can trust here."

Lia also saw the address and the name of the garage's owner. "Especially if the head cheese tried to buy up her place at any point. Shall we?"

"We shall." They revved their engines again, taking off.

-B-

The Last Chance Garage, Chicago, Illinois

Charlene Davidson—better known to her friends and customers as Charley—pulled her auburn head from an engine in mid-overhaul to hear two motorcycles coming her way, both in need of a tune-up. She knew that neither bike could belong to her friends, because she had just tuned them herself last week. Not only that, these bikes had the very distinct, slightly hyper-sonic whine of Martian-made engines. This observation, to her mind, had two possible conclusions: two more Martian mice were in Chi-town, or their unfriendly neighborhood villain had teleported in someone with stolen Martian tech.

Either way, she was expecting something interesting right about now.

Scrubbing her hands on a clean rag, she opened the automatic door to reveal the two bikes in question. Both were beautiful pieces of Martian machinery, but the female riders really caught her attention. The rider of the sleek gold bike with red flames was built, topping out at six feet even, wearing a cropped red-leather jacket, black shirt, and black cargo pants, with a small pack attached to her belt. The bright-green bike's pilot was closer to Charley's height, about five-seven, but not nearly as slender, dressed in what looked like blue denim from her dark-green combat boots to her shirt and topped with a long, dark-blue leather trench coat. Unlike her macho mice, these two had biker helmets that completely obscured their faces when the visors were up. She couldn't see tails, but that could mean anything.

Trench Coat dismounted first. "Ms. Davidson?" Her voice was slightly muffled by the visor, but Charley could tell it was akin to a soprano.

Charley smiled. "Please, call me Charley. Can I assume you're here for more than just a tune up for your bikes?"

Both riders paused as if surprised. The Amazon in red spoke next, her muffled voice slightly deeper than her friend's. "How did you know?"

"I could hear it as you rode up. And my friends have bikes like yours, so I know what a Martian bike in good condition is supposed to sound like." She tried for reassuring as she gathered up the necessary tools. "Take off the helmets, please? I'd like to know what you look like."

With a traded glance, the two female bikers removed their headgear. Amazon was gray-furred with ash-white markings that stretched back into the chin-length black hair on her head and between her red antennae, giving her a distinguished look. Trench Coat had to shake out her shoulder-length red curls, pulling them away from her white face and red antennae.

In their own ways, Charley thought, each of them was as pretty as Carbine.

"So I was right?" Trench Coat asked, cautiously hopeful. "There are other Martians here?"

Charley nodded as she knelt by the bright-green machine. "Three of them." She looked up from the engine. "What's your name?"

Trench Coat grinned. "I'm Victoria, but everyone calls me Vic." She gestured to Amazon, who was shedding her jacket to put on a chair. "And this babe is my friend Aprilia."

"Just Lia," the gray fur corrected. "My full name is just too much of a mouthful, especially when we're in a hurry."

Charley nodded as she tuned Vic's engine. "I can understand that. So, what are you doing here?"

"Here in your garage, or here on Earth in general?" Lia asked.

"Both." Charley finished Vic's tune-up and moved on to Lia's.

"If you've met these Freedom Fighters, you know about the Plutarkians and their invasion of Mars," Vic started. When Charley nodded, she continued. "Lia and I are spies. We'd been undercover with the Plutarkians for almost one and a half of your years."

Charley's tool almost slipped in her hand as she gazed up in shock. "You've been spying on the stink-fishes for eighteen months? How could you stand the smell?!"

"Nostril filters," Lia interjected, "and the willingness to turn off the sense of smell in your brain."

"As for how we got to Earth, we were caught and thrown into a teleporter," Vic went on. "I don't know if we got careless or they got smarter, but someone noticed the information leaked to the Freedom Fighters—including how our own government had sold large tracts of Martian real estate to Plutark before the invasion began. Anyway, we didn't know where they were trying to send us, so we had to redirect the beam, while we were still inside it, and wound up west of here. We asked a nice lady in a library for the best place for our bikes, and garages have information, whether they know it or not."

"We needed the tune-up," Lia added, "but we also had to find out who was constantly wrecking Limburger's tower. Anyone who hates him that much could be our ally, maybe even a friend."

"And you say there are three other Martian mice here?" Vic asked.

Charley nodded. "They went out on patrol on the west side a few hours ago. They should be back anytime. After which, I'm gonna give them a piece of my mind for leaving me behind, _again_."

Vic and Lia shared a smile; they were familiar with this "macho mouse" phenomenon. "Let me guess," Lia said. "They're chivalrous to the point of chauvinism?"

Charley nodded. "Yes! I'm the one rebuilding their bikes, patching them up half the time, _and _I've proven that I can fight! And they _still_ treat me like I have to be protected."

"To them, you are," Vic added. "The Plutarkians and their pet allies usually have no qualms about going after the weak and helpless. We females have learned to fight out of necessity, but those who don't, or are unable to, are protected almost to the point of absurdity."

"I don't want to think about how certain male relatives of ours would react to us volunteering to spy on the stink-fishes," Lia pointed out.

Vic shuddered; yeah, she could imagine her brother's reaction, and it wasn't a pretty image.

Charley cocked her head to one side, hearing three familiar bike engines coming their way. "Well, ladies, you're about to meet Chi-Town's own alien heroes," she said with a smile.

Uncertain of who they would meet, the girl mice grabbed and put their helmets on.

The Biker Mice from Mars rolled into the Last Chance, mindful of the last few times they had crashed through without opening the doors first. Vinnie, the white-furred adrenaline junkie, pulled off his helmet first, showing his half-metal face. "Hey, there, Charley-girl!" he greeted. He was always cheerful and hungry after tangling with Limburger's goons.

Modo, the gentle gray-furred giant, smiled at Charley before noticing the other two bikes in the garage. "You have customers, Charley-ma'am?"

_"We_ have visitors, guys," Charley corrected. She gestured to the two newcomers with her thumb. "Originally from your neck of the galaxy."

Vinnie was the first to realize they were female and grinned. "Well, hello, ladies."

"Typical," Vic laughed as she removed her helmet, revealing herself. "You have the charm and looks in the family, while I'm stuck with the brains."

For once since Charley had met him, Vinnie was struck speechless. "V-Victoria?" he whispered.

Vic's smile turned nervous and a little emotional. "Hi, big brother. Looking good."

Vinnie blinked twice before darting forward and sweeping Vic into a hug, whooping out a mad-mouse laugh. "Vickie!"

Vic laughed as tears leaked from her eyes, holding on tight. "Missed you so much, Vincent." She playfully punched his shoulder. "And don't call me 'Vickie'!"

Modo and Throttle, their tan furred leader, looked at the Van Wham reunion with smiles, pleased for their bro. Then they noticed the other mouse had removed her own helmet and approached them. Modo's breath caught in his throat at the familiar face with ash-white markings. "Aprilia?"

"Hey, little cousin," she replied, tears in her voice.

Modo brought up his flesh left hand to gently cup her cheek. "Aw Lia! Oh, momma, you're real!" He reeled her in close for her own hug, wrapping her arms around him in response.

Throttle shook his head in amusement. "Hey, don't I get a hug?" he half-joked.

The girl mice exchanged looks and separated from their respective family members. Throttle suddenly found himself the filling of a mouse sandwich, both girls hugging him and kissing him loudly on both cheeks. "Missed you, Throttle!" they said in young, high-pitched voices.

Charley, Modo, and Vinnie laughed as the cool and collected mouse blushed to the curves of his ears.

-M-

**AN2:** By the end of Season 2, Limburger Tower had to be rebuilt fifty-six times, according to the billboard at the end of the episode "High Rollin' Rodents".

**AN3:** "Vincent" and "Victoria" have the same root word ("to conquer" or "to win" in Latin), so of course I made them siblings! Aprilia is a brand of motorcycle in Italy, so I thought it was appropriate.


End file.
